A quiet moment stretched on for what felt like an eternity. The question had been asked, more or less. Was he meant to make a speech? A plea to be granted the permission that wasn't necessarily Conall's to give in the first place. (It was only a formality, after all, and if the older man knew what had sparked the sudden change Beau doubted they'd be playing this game.)

Beau clenched and unclenched his hands beneath the table. They had bonded once over their mutual dislike of Mr. Langley, but would that ire be directed towards him now? Fuck, he hoped not.

Steeling himself for humiliation, Beau sat straighter in the chair and continued to look towards Conall. "Do I have it?"